Unspoken
by TheWriterGirl19
Summary: They haven't spoken in two years. That's all about to change.
1. Chapter 1

Michael Vincent Staccato Hodgins always smelt like paint.

It had always been something Christine had just _known. _

He always wore the same ratty Converse sneakers.

She _knew _he got them in their freshman year.

His hair was, unfortunately, perpetually messy.

She actually didn't _know _why, though.

He didn't like bugs.

Christine would just _know _these things. She _knew _his favorite color was green. She _knew _he was dyslexic. But, she just didn't knowwhy she _knew. _They hadn't spoken a word since the summer after sophomore year, when he and his little sister, Pippa, had gone on tour with their grandpa. When he came back two months later, he was no longer the awkward in between teen he had been when he had left. He had grown taller, his hair was longer, still unbelievably disheveled, and the smell of paint lingered long than it used to.

She was in her bedroom, legs on the yellow painted wall. There was only two days until her senior year began, and with Parker having come and gone this summer, Christine was bored. Her mom and dad were in West Virginia, spending the weekend with her Aunt Angela and Uncle Jack. The sun was low in the sky, but the heat still clung to her like a heavy blanket.

There was a desk pushed to one wall, tens of college applications scattered on top, hiding her laptop from view. The shelves on the walls were jammed pack with books, and pictures, and on the second shelf from the bottom, a small fading yellow rabbit was perched atop her copies of _Slaughterhouse 5 _and _To Kill a Mockingbird. _The stuffed animal had been a gift from Michael in eighth grade; he had won it at Pippa's elementary school carnival.

She could hear the click of Rocky's, the German-Shepherd puppy the family had adopted when Rascal, their old dog had died, claws on the polished wood floor. A warm gust of wind blew through her open window and she shifted slightly on the bed. In the silence, a familiar sound burst into action. Her phone. She jumped to her bare feet and raced down the stairs, snatching the small device off of the counter and answering the call.

"Hello?" She took a deep breath, sliding into one of the bar stools.

"Hi, sweetie, it's mom." The voice of Temperance Brennan echoed over the phone line.

"What's up, mom?" She picked at the bright green nail polish on her smallest finger.

She could hear voices on the other side. "Your dad thought it might be a good idea that I call and warn you that we should be home around eight tomorrow morning."

Christine just sighed into the phone. "I know that. It's not like you guys forgot to tell me fifty times before you left." She threw her feet onto the other stool. "You can tell him I'm not going to throw a party."

Brennan laughed. "I will, don't worry. Alright, there's some food in the refrigerator, you'll last until morning."

"Hey, is it okay if Abby comes over?" Abigail Raines was her best friend, and currently, the only one, with the exception of Christine herself, without plans to go to the party down at the warehouse.

"I have no problem with that, now, I have to go." Brennan paused to say something to somebody. "Your father says he loves you, and so do I." She could tell that Brennan was eager to get off of the phone.

"Love you both too. I'll see you when you get home." She waited for a reply, but the line was already dead. With a sigh, she found Abby's name in her contact list before sending a quick message to the girl.

_Hey, I have a fridge full of food and Pay-Per-View. U in?_

It didn't take long for her to respond.

_I'll be over in ten. _

_Alright. See u then _

Christine tucked her phone into the back pocket of her shorts before padding into the living room, she bent down and turned the TV on before moving back to the kitchen. She pulled down a glass bowl from one of the cabinets, before pouring half a bag of chips into the bowl. Retrieving two cans of cola from the garage fridge, she added some pretzels to the bowl before returning to the living room, and settling down with the snacks. Not two minutes later, a voice called out,

"I brought chocolate," Soon after, a petite blonde girl walked into the room. She was dressed in a thin tank top, covering her bikini top, and a pair of denim shorts, while her blonde hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. As she flopped down on the couch, her sandals landed on the rug with a thud. "So, guess what?"

"I don't want to." Christine started the movie. Tonight it was _The Amazing Spiderman. _

"Well, Michael texted me today," She waved the bedazzled phone in front of Christine's blue eyes.

She turned her focus to the screen. "What'd he say?"

"He asked if we were coming to the party tonight," Abby shrugged, tossing back a handful of M&M's. "I told him no. We had better things to do."

"I don't understand why you guys even talk." Christine mumbled through a mouthful of chips.

Abby shrugged again. "Me either."

And, it was silent for a long time after that. Several hours later, at seven A.M. to be exact, Christine was awoken to an uncomfortable kink in her neck from her highly uncomfortable sleeping position, and the morning news blaring unnecessarily loud. She rolled her neck, massaging the sore spot and letting out a yawn before shaking her best friend awake.

"W-was goin' on?" Abby blurted through a thick yawn.

Christine just shook her head. "Just wake up, I want to get some breakfast."

"Want to hit up the Diner?" Abby eased herself to her feet. "It'll waste time until your parents get home."

Christine nodded. "But, I need to shower and change."

"So do I. I'm going to borrow some clothes, okay?"

"Sure," Christine rolled her eyes with a tired smile. "Now, come on."

Twenty minutes later, Christine was in the passenger seat of Abby's Jeep as the two sped down the street. She was glaring at her phone in the sun, sunglasses sliding down her nose. "Hey, Luke wants to know why you're not texting him back."

"Because I don't want to, tell him that's why." She let out a frustrated sigh. "He's smothering me, Booth. Do you get that?"

"I'll just say you lost your phone." She replied, fingers already flying across the screen.

"That works too." She screeched to a halt in front of The Royal Diner, before pulling into a sloppy parallel parking job. "Yikes."

Christine jumped out of the vehicle. "How you ever got your license is beyond me." The two girls laughed, entering the café.

A full hour later, Christine and Abby returned to the Booth household, to find Temperance and Seeley both sitting at the breakfast bar, munching on various food items. "Hi, mom, hi, dad." Christine snatched up three grapes from her mother's pile, handing one to Abby as they leaned against the counter. "How was your weekend?"

"Uneventful." Seeley Booth said resentfully. "It was uneventful, and by that, I mean boring."

Rocky clicked into the room, curling at his feet. "I thought it was fun," Temperance answered honestly.

"Bones, it wasn't fun."

Christine looked between her parents. "Well, I'm going to go walk Abby out to her car, and I'll be right back." She pushed the slight girl out the front door and towards the Jeep.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early with a sunny disposition." Abby winked at the girl. "Deal?"

Christine shrugged. "I can't agree with the sunny disposition."

"I know, but you can try, Booth."

"But, I probably won't."

Abby laughed, hopping into the driver's seat. "See you later, B."

"Later, Abby."

Reentering the house, Christine was pleased to see that her parents were no longer bickering, but, instead her dad had moved onto the couch, watching a football game while her mom was sitting beside him, with her nose buried in a book. With a content smile, Christine took a spot beside her father, putting her legs across his and snatching a handful of peanuts up.

Tomorrow, she would be a senior. Tomorrow marked the beginning of the end. _Sure, _she thought, _I'm melodramatic. But, I'm also a teenager. _But, for now, it was still summer, and she was going to enjoy every minute of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**I AM SO SORRY! I'M SUCH A COW! a none updating cow who is deeply sorry and promises the readers TWO chapters this weekend to make up for her absence. PLEASE DON'T HATE ME!**

* * *

Michael Hodgins loved Melissa Prescott. He loved her from her perfectly curled ginger locks to her pink painted toe nails. And really, when you took a good look at her, it was hard _not _to love Melissa Prescott. With bright blue eyes, that perfect heart shaped face with a long eye lashes and perfectly pink lips. She was always smiling, and she was always happy, and she was just… _perfect._

He could remember the first time he had seen her. It was the first day of freshman year, and he had ridden to school with Christine and her dad. He and Christine were walking through the halls when he saw her.

_She was tugging on her locker, trying to pry it open. She was dressed in a white t-shirt with a leather jacket and jeans that weren't too loose or too tight. Even then she was wearing the same thrashed black boots. Her perfect curls were held up in a loose bun, with a single curl falling into those gorgeous eyes._

"_Whoa," Christine had stopped, her elbow digging into his ribcage. She was staring at Michael with her own blue eyes. "Calm your hormones, Hodgins."_

"_What?" He shrugged with a small smile. "She's pretty, that's all." _

"_Yeah, entirely too pretty for you." Christine _had _always been annoyingly honest. _

_The two of them stopped at his locker. "She's pretty, Booth." He looked down at the girl. "Calm _your_ hormones." _

And, here he was, four years later, dumping books into his locker, without Christine by his side, and a date with Melissa Prescott on Saturday at seven o' clock. He snatched up a notebook and a pen before heading down the hall towards Study Hall. Pulling open the heavy door, he wasn't surprised to see her sitting by the window. Since first grade, Christine had sat by the window. There no reason as for why she did it, but, it never failed. Come class time, you could find Christine Booth in a window seat.

He took his own spot in the third row, to the left of Melissa, who smiled at him as he sat down. "Hey," She greeted.

"What's up?"

She reached under her seat, pulling several pieces of paper and a pen from her bag. "Writing college essays," She gave a slight frown with a shrug.

"Already?"

"Yeah, my mom thinks it's a good idea, and I figured, you know, why not?" She relaxed in her chair, placing the sheaf of papers on her desk. "Are you still friends with Booth?"

"We haven't really talked in a while, why?" His eyes found the girl in question. She was bent over a notebook, scribbling like mad while still managing to hold a conversation with a girl names Maddie.

"Just wondering,"

"OK,"

And, with that, she began scribbling down an essay and he flipped open his notebook to a clean page. On the page before that, was a piece for his mom's new art exhibit in May. It was a roughly drawn sketch of his 1967 Mustang GT. With a sigh, he began the curve of cheekbones, shading it as well as he possibly could with the cheap ink pen.

He was working on the corner of the left eye when someone knocking into his desk sent his pen flying across the page in a dark scribble. "Damn it!" He spun around in his seat, watching as Christine pushed her way through the desks, an impatient Luke Harris trailing behind her.

"I don't know, Luke!" He could hear her say as she snatched up her notebook off of Mrs. Lloyd's desk. "Besides, I wouldn't tell you even if I did." They were coming back his way, he braced his notepad as the shoved past.

"She broke up with me, you're her best friend, Booth." He stood over her desk as she flipped open the notebook. "Just tell me."

"I don't want to, Harris. Now, go _away._" It was obvious to Michael that the conversation was over. Luke Harris was a different matter.

"Michael? Hello?" Melissa's waving hand brought his focus back to her.

"Yeah, what's up?"

She smiled at him. "Just wondering if you could read over my essay?" She offered a scribbled on piece of paper.

"I'm near useless when it comes to words, Melissa." He made a face. "Now, if it were a college portrait…"

She laughed. "That's funny,"

And, then the bell rang. He was on his feet and out the door before he could even think. Christine pushed past him, her shoulder knocking into his own. Luke was still trailing behind her. And, not long after, Melissa was by his side and they were off again.

Evan Grace was six feet tall and about two inches wide. He had died black hair and enough piercings that Michael had long since lost count of. They had been best friends since sixth grade, when Michael had braces and Evan had blonde hair. The two of them had bonded over a broken pencil, which was a much longer story than one would expect. Evan had a big mouth and no filter. He also knew more about Michael than Michael himself was comfortable with.

So, when Melissa had decided that she would sit with him at lunch, he was nervous. Tyler Anderson, a prick from the soccer team, Danny Holden, a quiet boy with wide green eyes, and his girlfriend Leigh-Anne Brown, she had dyed her hair pink in freshman year, had also taken up residence at his table. Melissa, in all of her wonderful, gorgeous glory had nearly begged to sit with him, seeing as her friends, a bunch of girls from the student council, were all allergic to nuts.

"Please," She pleaded, holding up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. They were standing by his locker, just before the lunch bell rang. "I just want one PB and J sandwich for lunch." Her blue eyes were wide and her bottom lip was stuck out in a (very attractive) pout.

He slammed his locker closed, leaning against it. "I should ask Evan," He told her. "But, he'll just say yes anyways." He started down the hallway, turning back to her. "Are you coming or not?"

"Thank you," She smiled, hurrying to catch up with him. "I'm eternally grateful to you."

"In case you were wondering, I like money." He nudged her with his shoulder.

She shook her head with a laugh, "In case you were wondering, I'm broke."

"So am I. And, so far, my generous job of sitting on my couch at home is not paying as well as I had hoped." He could see her obnoxiously loud Capitols jersey out of the corner of his eye. Apparently, Melissa saw it too.

"Hey, Booth," She called out.

_Well, crap. _"Look, Melissa, maybe we should-"

"Um," She was ten feet away, five feet, two feet- _crap. _"What's up, Melissa?" She had one ear bud in; the other was falling on her shoulder. Her dusty brown locks were piled on top of her head, and she was wearing holey jeans, and the red Converse he had given her years ago.

"I was just wondering if you knew Dylan Foster."

Christine tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, revealing several piercings of her own. _Her and Evan. _He thought with the smallest smirk. "Yeah, we've met."

He scoffed without meaning too. Her eyes flashed towards him. "Sorry, um, continue." His face was on fire, he could feel it.

"Well, I just heard that he was going to ask you out," Melissa paused, twisting a curl into her ponytail. "And, what I was going to ask was if he were to ask you out, what would you say?"

"He wants to-" And without warning, she began to laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Michael was pretty sure he was the only person who knew why.

In their freshman year, Dylan Foster had been the six foot three starting center for the varsity basketball team. He had asked Christine to homecoming and for Michael, watching his attempt to ask out the beautiful, yet brutal, Christine Booth, was like watching a car crash. It was terrible, but, he just couldn't bring himself to look away.

Long story, short, their date was horrible. According to Christine, when she had climbed in his window later on after the dance, he had stepped on her toes all night, and her feet were killing her. In the process of apologizing, he had managed to spill his punch on her dress, and after forty five minutes, he had ditched her for Allison Parker, a sophomore and resident captain of the _girls' _basketball team. Christine, though brilliant and a fantastic writer, was probably the least active person he had met in his entire life, and Pippa barely moved to eat.

"Why are you laughing?" Melissa stood with arms crossed. For any normal human, the site of the angry ginger would be a frightening moment, but for Christine, who was raised by two fearless parents, not many things scared her. "Dylan's not a bad guy,"

"We… it's not…." She couldn't stop laughing. He _had _to help her.

"They've gone out before," He suddenly burst. It silenced her laughter in one second. "They went to homecoming in our freshman year. The date was so bad; she climbed in my window crying."

"Michael," Christine breathed. "Are you kidding me?"

_Wait, what?_


End file.
